Parents
by egomaniacexile
Summary: after the team suffers a tragedy that separates them, they find themselves amidst the chaos of the soviet accords questioning the reliability of the family thats bound to them by blood.


she had been dead for seven months.

it didn't take too long for everyone to disband from that. she was the voice of reason, of course, and without that voice they were all left to be taunted by their own intrusive thoughts, let alone one another. the only way the apartment felt full was when there were angered yells bouncing off of every wall; even when they would sit in silence it seemed to be deserted of all life. light seemed to stop coming in through the large windows and each and every one of them. they were tired, upset, confused, and under a contract.

when the second month was up perry left first. they always thought it was odd, they always thought she needed to be anchored onto any one of them in order to keep her mind quiet. they were wrong, and she left, back to the stone barracks of the disheveled shield compounds, and back to an occupation that held no true reason of her own. james had stayed, but they knew it wasn't out of any emotional complex. he didn't feel anything for either of them. he didn't yearn for them to be there for him or even vice versa. he didn't see the necessity in being needed by someone or needing someone else, especially now.

at least, thats what ben thought. at least, thats what he reasoned every night their naked bodies would collide in the now empty house. there was no tether, there was no need, there was nothing really holding them together except that they each lost something so precious like a delicate piece of antique china. they thrashed but they didn't hate; they melted but there was nothing wholesome in it. nothing. they were nothing. grief. it was grief. was this not one of the many modern stages of grief?

james left on the third month. ben never moved out.

—

"do me a favor, ezekiel, and stop flirting with the cocktail waitress."

"hey, pretty things like you are important to the success of life or death missions"

ben groaned. the pretty thing muttered something in a confused tone. gunfire began to spread over the comms like watercolors on paper.

"remind me to never take chances on rookies again…" squeezing the bridge of his nose as tight as he could, ben practically flicked the ear-piece out of place, leaning back against the glass wall of the room and attempting to tune out the rest of the chatter from the many seats. comments were thrown back at both him and the agent whose mission went haywire oceans away, but he chose to focus on a self-created static that ease the pressure he felt around his eyes. his armpits were sweaty. he excused himself and left the room without an affirmation.

shield was all he had left. even though 'the team' was broken into now three individual pieces, there was still nothing he could do. it's hard to build a resume when all your skills are decades old, and it's hard to build new skills when you've been responsible for discretely tampering with world affairs in every which way for all your modern life. ben was still good at laundry and patching up flesh wounds, but that still left a limited occupation pool. to him, coulson suggested a continuation of his previous role but on a larger scale—one that would "make his country proud" and "right all the wrongs shield had done before". ben had nowhere else to go.

shield was all he had left.

he made his way into a nearby bathroom to deal with his sweaty armpits. he had been in the same standing position barking orders over a miniaturized microphone for months, yet the job still made him as nervous as he was when he first told perry to pull the trigger. something about having peoples lives on the line—no, global stability. something about having global stability on the line made him nauseous. there was, after all, only so much you could cover up.

he removed his jacket and cursed under his breath at the wet patches that could be seen in his dress shirt beneath. he had transitioned to wearing black more often, each button-down retaining less stains than the white shirts, but he really needed to just have the glands removed. when it came up in conversation with perry, she joked that it was just all the excess water coming out of his body after being iced for so long. he didn't laugh at that joke.

" _agent carter to the deck. agent carter to the deck._ " the electronic page startled him while he attempted to merely dampen a paper towel, making him jump and causing the sink water to splash all over his front. he cursed under his breath again, and in a rather irrational state of mind, he removed his dress shirt and shoved it into the garbage can in the corner of the room. the white t shirt beneath held multiple yellow stains from previous sweat outbreaks (and a few red from some ketchup incidents) yet he couldn't care as he slipped on his blazer and left the bathroom in an angered hurry.

reaching his destination, he wasn't surprised when he noticed coulson at the front of the room with his hands in his pockets, staring ahead at the large screen that display a whole lot of gibberish ben never really cared enough about. what he was surprised by was the red-tinged hair he noticed in the corner of the room, spinning in a chair likely from boredom. if he wasn't careful, he would have called out the name of the arsenal daughter that became such a part of this rebuilt organization, but he was, and waited until the figure stopped leaving them face to face.

"carter."

"barnes."

they stared at one another for a few seconds before perry had outstretched her hand. ben walked over and held out his own expecting for her to shake it, but instead she grabbed onto his forearm and pulled herself out of the chair. she nodded in thanks, allowing the falsely created tension of their names to falter behind them as they each walked closer to coulson and the growing mediocre crowd around him.

ben began to sweat again as the conversation swelled. according to the news coulson not only retrieved from avengers headquarters but the media itself, united nations was organizing what seemed to be a leash for anyone involved in 'vigilante' activity. it would be easy to question if shield fell under that umbrella considering their lack of ties to a government, but they were admittedly unknown to the united states at the time, let alone the united nations. for this reason, most members that came back after the whole hydra incident held outside covers in mundane occupations or even government agencies to help provide necessary information. for those that were found in its revitalization, namely ben, perry, and other members previously part of the hydra tide, it was hard for them to have an outside cover besides the loosely created one for their life in the everyday world. for ben, shield was all he had left. for perry, it was her anchor.

"i understand if some of you agree with these conditions, but speak and take action now while you're still free to." chatter erupted after coulson finished his little speech, mixed with agreements and confusion of the like while he silently disappeared into the nooks and crannies he held both him and his secrets in. ben managed to ignore it, nearly at peace with the fact. secrets and sneaking were always part of his life, so it was grotesquely comforting for him to see it even now.

perry cleared her throat when the silence between them refused to tamper off. "i heard you've been leading rooks lately."

"rookies," ben corrected, his body relaxing and the sweating brought to a cease fire as he turned to the girl beside him. "they're called rookies." she shrugged at his repeat of words, never caring too much if her words matched the right ones. she knew what she meant, and bottom line was that he knew what she meant too. he always did.

the two had carried on the dry conversation of 'what have you been up to lately?' while making their way off of the now argumentative deck and into the quiet break room. ben began to play with the small coffee machine while perry recounted her last mission in a strained voice. such was expected—coulson having her play 'damsels in distress' which involved high pitched screams in order to be undetected before she could slit anyones throat. it was boring work, and ben had told her so when he first offered her the option to work with him to help train the firearm-loving bunches in hand-to-hand combat scenarios. back then she immediately responded with a soft hum in her throat, meant to signal the conversation as over, but as she spoke now he could tell there was some regret and _yes_ , boredom.

"sounds like you've been busy." ben commented while sliding a filled coffee mug her way on the table; packets of sugar and creamer not far behind. she murmured something in agreement while taking a sip from her mug and watching as he never even attempted to sit down, leaning against the counter and staring into his own mug without taking a sniff nor a sip. she quietly placed her own cup back on the table and looked away.

"i heard about margaret… your mother…" ben sighed, finally aware that the reason he was paged was not because of some meeting on the deck but some oddly organized intervention by coulson. for a second, he considered it likely to see james coming through the iron gates of the compound and nearly heard his voice in a sarcastically-considerate remark. with a sigh, he rid himself of the ridiculous scenario and gingerly tapped his fingers against the glass in his hand. "when are you flying out?" she questioned carefully, finally looking back up to see his dropped face, staring into the mug as if he were staring at his own reflection inside.

"in a few days."

"commercial?"

"coulson didn't want me to create a ruckus." he finally raised his cup to take a sip, nearly cringing at the bitter taste. he took another gulp. "rogers doesn't know about us anyway…"

he meant shield. maybe only partially. perry stood but she didn't move.

"you don't have to come." he sensed her taking a breath to speak and decided to speak for her, aware that she would be taking a step that was still considerably uncomfortable on her part. she closed her mouth. she didn't have a right to go anyway.

"i was going to leave for the accords." she finally added. ben looked up, a bit taken aback by the proposal of the statement but she held up her hand to prevent questioning. "not to sign, i don't even think it's in my place to anyway, i just have this feeling that somethings going to go wrong." ben agreed, but said nothing. he looked back down into his cup.

"ben," he didn't look up. "ben…" he shut his eyes tightly at the sound of his name, but raised his head anyway. his were glazed over a bit, but he managed to control himself enough so that she wouldn't feel sad for him. the down expression on her face proved otherwise. "i'm sorry for your loss…" she muttered, wholesomely, fluently. he nodded with the smallest of smiles, as though to say thanks. he looked back into his glass, but there was just not enough light in the room for him to see his reflection inside.

—

the flight was quiet, save for a coughing elderly man in the back and the sound of open air-vents in individual seats. he had managed to book a flight on an airline with television, but it was just his luck that his didn't work.

when he got to the hotel he had to wait for the manager to confer his room. apparently too many people in the area were staying under the name 'carter' that red flags were raised. he almost wished he went under an alias, but what would that say about him? seventy years and still trying to hide from the world, thats what it would say. he thanked the manager and the concierge when they finally gave him his room key and offered him a complimentary meal voucher. it was equal to ten us-dollars and was likely to cover toast and a coffee. he opened his room door, dropped his single bag, and toppled onto the bed.

ben couldn't remember what his mother looked like. he was able to retrieve photos, but they were black and white depictions of a woman he felt he didn't know. by the time he was old enough to remember her face, she was well and ahead in her career at the SSR, or whatever the initials were at the time. sousa, the man he considered his father, managed to always be home when she wasn't. he was an agent too, but ben had always came first for him. as a child, he was a daddy's boy, always with him and grown in the image of what he could no longer be. perhaps thats why he was hell bent on becoming an athlete like no other to make up for his inabilities as a school student.

when he went to middle school things became blurred. ben may have had the capability to run miles and miles with a single breath but he could never outrun the bathroom torments, the taunts that he was crippled in his head like his old man was crippled in his leg. he'd come home bruised, but was able to play it off as a sports injury. he'd be home with a bloody nose and beaten in eyes, but he claimed he was running in the dark and ran into a mailbox.

his mother knew this mailbox had fists but she wouldn't say a thing. she once offered to teach him how to fight, but both he and his father had refused. she would never argue about this with his father though. it seemed to ben's young mind that this issue just did not exist enough for her.

his sister was born the day he graduated from senior high school. it didn't matter to him that his parents weren't there to watch him walk across a wooden stage to retrieve a piece of paper. he didn't even show up either. he had decided to hide in a tree behind the audience to watch everyone else in their show of false pride. when they called his name, he was still before he decided to run. it wasn't in the direction of the stage, nor his home not too far from the iron class building, but directly into the traffic ridden street as if he dared the cars to hit him.

he wasn't asking to die, rather reassuring that he had the capability to live through anything the world threw at him from any odd direction.

he had been hit by a 1957 cadillac eldorado. it was black, with a timeless white leather interior. he wanted to tell his father that he saw the pinnacle of luxury in their own shabby neighborhood, that if he was hurt they could sue the bastards because they were just _that_ wealthy.

ben never remembered much after that. he blacked out, or maybe went into a coma.

quickly, he awoke from his ill-timed rest in a cold sweat, as though to prevent his mind from running any further. his hands shuffled around the room, reaching for something, anything that could tell him where he was. his mind was in a blacked out frenzy, and the night sky only created more darkness as he tumbled over in the bed landing onto his back, gasping.

through the corner of his eye, ben could see the city lights of glass towers stretched throughout the london skyline. he slowly began to breathe, as though he was at peace.

—

"hi, thank you for calling delta airlines!"

"you lost my bag."

"oh how unfortunate! if you would like us to connect you to crisis services please press—,"

a growling noise echoed in the phone as her thumb jabbed the necessary key. then another, and another, and so many others that left the sound of archaic jazz tunes playing through her phone at a minimum volume. ben was not kidding when he said coulson did not want to create a ruckus in light of recent events, but perry never considered that to affect her flight conditions. hours before the accords and she was stuck in an airport for hours because of layovers, delays, and all that junk. in his avoidance of a 'ruckus', perry thought, coulson merely created a larger one as she was going to complain both professionally and childishly once she returned. perhaps she would go rogue for a day, avoid a mission to finally try that new taco bell special she saw over and over again on her tv.

"hello and thank you for calling delta airlines crisis services: baggage troubles. how can we assist you today?" the sound of smacking bubblegum on the line was louder than the voice that spoke. for a second, perry thought her eyes rolled all the way into the darkness of their sockets. they did not, however, as her eyes instead scanned the room around her while beginning to open her mouth to yell before catching the sight of a fabric samsonite bag torn so much you could not tell the color it originally was because wear and tear made it a dark, murky grey. the bag was hers, purchased on the fly the first time she was introduced to the team and her female teammate decided that she deserved to witness american capitalism as a mere consumer. it was a forest green when they had gotten in from marshalls. abby told her it paired with her hair.

"you should be more careful taking your things through customs." perry hung up and tucked her phone away without another word as her egg donor smiled while handing her the bag. she grabbed it, but gingerly as though it was now tainted by more than the past.

"i didn't the widow flies coach."

"only on special occasions."

"if the occasion is so special then i should take your spot on the jet waiting for you."

to people walking by, the pair truly looked like mother and daughter. standing, bickering, oh how cute. they even had the same tied up red hair, each in a delicate bun that could only be made by their genetically steady hands. conveniently they each were all black, though where the elder was surprisingly formal the younger truly dressed for the airport lifestyle in a pair of shield issued sweatpants. the agency may have their plethora of problems, but damn could they make comfortable clothes.

natasha laughed. perry nearly lurched. "you're headed to the accords, right? coulson has you on watchtower duty i heard…"

"it helps that he set my cover in a private security company. lets me say 'no' to your question and not be a liar."

"well, he is all about the lies." perrys eyes narrowed but she didn't bother to question her further. she only cleared her throat, spinning her bag in a better direction, and nodded to dismiss herself from the conversation that was more like an odd hell. instead, nastasha too turned and began to follow the smaller figure.

"you know…" she began, her voice hesitant, and oddly scared. "there could be a spot on that jet for you too, all you have to do is ask…" no response. "i understand you're tight with times and assignments and everything but if coulson oversteps you always have a place with—,"

"with you?" perrys voice was louder than it should've been though quiet enough to not attract the attention of too many people. few turned to watch the squabble, though as the two stopped in their steps and stared them down the world fell back into its regular motions. they turned to one another again, and quietly they each let out a long held breath.

"perry, i understand you had something at shield that kept you from leaving but thats gone now. coulson is not going to help you get it back no matter what you do for him and i just—… i want to make sure you're not throwing your life away for a cause you don't understand." somewhere along the monologue perry had looked away, finding her eyes attracted to a group in like at a fast food stand. she could guess they were friends, tossing water bottles between them and yelling at one another though not accusatory. the menu became a topic of discussion; apparently person a thought water could not be the best stomach pal to a hotdog but person b thought nothing could go wrong. behind them the larger half of the group began muttering on how long it would take person b to vomit on the plane. she looked back, finding a look of concern on natasha's face as she had crossed her arm over her coat.

"nastasha…" perrys voice was soft in a way that was nearly foreign, but a lack of true emotion was not present. natasha softened at the sound. "i respect you, a lot. i always have from the day i could read your file. you managed to take your life, what was once mine too, and turn it into something i actually used to dream of…" nat took a step forward and opened her mouth to respond, but perry was quicker.

"but you are not my mother." her hells stopped in their tracks. "you are not someone i want to pity because they chose to pity me, and you certainly are not someone who can tell me i am throwing my life away for something i supposedly do not understand."

"i'm not trying to—,"

"yes, you are."

silence began to fill the space between the two despite the echoes of voices all around. somehow the defenses of the black widow began to crumble in a way that was nearly foreign. the association she considered her life crumbled and was revealed to be corrupt but she still managed to hold the upper hand, her best friend left her superhero-pal team and she still had resolve, yet the words of a teenaged clone served as the largest of cracks. perry could see it, but she stood still.

swiftly, nastahsa looked away and to her side as she began to fish something out of her pocket and finally presented a slip of white paper. "the seat still stands." she added as perry slowly took the paper revealed to be a private plane ticket. quickly she looked up and noticed natasha share a small smile again as though the two seconds of bring cracked turned out to be absolutely nothing. perry looked between her and the ticket again. natasha tilted her head.

"i respect you too, peril." her hand mimicked a salute with the comment as she began to take a few steps back, calling out a quiet note for her to enjoy the upgrade when far enough.

perry smiled. she was going to enjoy the hell out of that upgrade.

—

the funeral was long, too long. too many people spoke, too many people whispered. ben felt as though he sat for the longest of time, his only movement during the minutes in which he watched as steve rogers carried his dead mothers casket through the church.

ben wasn't allowed. ben wasn't close family. ben was a boy with the same last name who could not give the honor of touching the cherry wood housing the body of the last thing from his remembered life.

in all honesty, he couldn't give a fuck.

he couldn't care less that he was labeled a near-distant-half-removed cousin of the carter family, that he was forced to sit in the back with people like the dry cleaners and the tsa agents who were respectful enough to let everyone past security without a hitch. he couldn't care that he didn't know a single person in the hall, giving speeches, sharing condolences. even as the final door closed and he was there alone, finally in front of the carved cherry wood, he could not find a single thing within himself that wanted to care.

putting a hand on the casket, ben was hit with the realization that he grieved more for his teammates death than his mothers. the cherry wood beneath his hand as cold as the silver box her body was tucked in, the flowers in the room nearly the same scent as the air freshener used to clean out the room where the three of them has stood as her body was rolled away. suddenly, ben found himself caring, but it wasn't for his mother. he took a deep breath as everything returned to him, ranging from the small pep talks to the large dinner orders, the skin wounds and the ones that were found unable to be healed. his fingers tapped against a casket that wasn't hers, and yet all he could think about was how she had never gotten the funeral she deserved.

"she was going to teach me how to dance…" and then his voice cut through the memories like a knife, and ben was back to where he was: a meaningless church, standing in front of a meaningless casket, playing the part of a meaningless boy. ben didn't turn around.

"before—… before it all went down we promised one another a dance… i guess it would have been a first date…"

ben waited. "what do you want, steve?" the man stopped in his tracks, ben finally turning around to look at him, sullen, photo ready, the man of the universe.

disgusting.

silence. exciting, painful, enduring silence filled the large room as the outside world became muffled. ben meeting the ice blue eyes sunken into pale skin ahead of him. they looked as though they wanted to speak, to say more, regretful of the days that has passed so long at this point.

but they turned away. steve left. seven minutes later ben followed.

—

"by the way, i heard about your mom… i'm sorry for your loss ben."

he wasn't sure if james was being serious, watching as his fork dipped into a plate of what looked like hamburger-helper mixed with mac and cheese. when he had ordered, there were foreign letters in the mix making this something a bit more ethnic. unlike him and perry, however, ben never opted for fluency in other languages. situation aside, he nodded as an acceptance of his comment and took a gulp of his water. next to him, perry sat picking at a salad, separating the cheese he remembered she specifically asked to not be included.

"why would you order _that_?"

"order what?"

"a fucking arugula salad, we're oversees you couldn't get something a little less touristy?"

perry sighed. ben smiled. james went back to eating his own food rather than comment on everyone elses choices.

"why did you call me here anyway? i have a return ticket for two hours from now."

"yea, you're gonna have to cancel that…" ben twirled his glass watching the ice swish around at the top. beside him, james' foot repeatedly tapped against the tile floor of the cafe they sat in, and around them the streets were in near chaos.

ben was checking out of his hotel when he had gotten a text from james to check the news. a half hour later and the stark boy was in his room reexplaining everything he had just seen with a bonus: coulsons personal request that they bring in barnes, quietly and quickly. ben, of course, was confused as to why james would listen to anything coulson had to say to him, especially concerning the three of them as a working unit. it was then he realized it was not a request but a trade.

"barnes for the doctor? are you serious?" ben had gone back to packing his bags at the word. it was a hoax after all—the doctor being a shield myth that no one hasnt heard of; the resurrector, they called her, the healer in short. he had never met the woman and neither had anyone within the group, yet james' persistence to meet with her even before the death of their friend only grew in the past six months. coulson, it seemed, weakened in his defenses, clearly needing barnes more than his aura of secrecy. or, perhaps, that was just another of his lies.

yet another line on the list of things ben could not care about.

"think of it as a competition: whoever gets barnes first wins!"

perry eyed the stark oddly. his excitement higher than usual, especially considering the two were in the same room, seated at the same table. flicking the last cheese curdle off her plate she sighed, thinking back to the upgrade she planned to finish enjoying though hoping for a better one in trade.

"well, if its a competition…"

—

he looked like a boy in the scope; a clipped backpack, plumb in hand, looking both ways to cross the street. _innocent_ , perry thought as she exhaled quietly while internally wishing she had gone to the bathroom before they suited up.

 _"_ _oh, don't tell me you have daddy issues too,"_ in her ear she could hear james amongst the static, a scoff following in a deeper voice that was bens merely blocks away. following the assumed bomber as he walked into the middle of the street, perry refused a comment. ben, on the other hand, could not.

 _"_ _its capture, not kill,"_ he reminded james, who was then the one to scoff. _"if you're so interested in changing how we do this then why are you stowed away in a van?"_

 _"_ _to remind you that the cia is on your ass like the good observer i am."_

 _"_ _please, i could smell their incompetence from the fruit stand around the block."_

"speaking of fruit stands, barnes has a paper and is moving east."

 _"_ _oh god, current events, what a drab."_

"the real drab is you not bringing tracer mags, stark, what is this 2013?"

 _"_ _are you really in any position to use years as an situational reference?"_

 _"_ _i've got eyes on the building, not that either of you care…"_ bens interjection seemed to wipe off what was left of the available time to bicker as the three began to fully immerse themselves into mission mode; perry readjusting her rooftop position to visually follow the metal-armed-man with a metal armed rifle, james crossing his legs inside of a falsely marked security-service van parked in between the suspects home and a falafel stand, and ben quietly taking steps into said apartment through an opened window. air ventilation can only give you so much if not for intruders.

"barnes is headed towards the same fire-escape carter—,"

 _"_ _he and rogers. ben get onto the roof, the cia's covered all other exits."_

 _"_ _it'll be quick, he said, minimum activity, he said…"_ ben tried to avoid responding to the note of name. needless to say, both of the ice children did; this mission in particular stirring up more than cross-ocean governments.

 _"_ _just climb the damn building and stick to the intersection—you've got hovers coming your way."_

perry watched as ben made his way out of the apartment and up the building by a complex series of climbing and jumping from window-stills. above she could hear the whirring of incoming helicopters and drones and was thankful for the pale color of her suit allowing her to blend with the rooftop to which she was comfortably positioned on. it was quiet, nearly successful; the captain likely causing a run and ben able to throw the shock-cuffs and pull barnes out before anyone was the wiser. quiet, planned, success. but the air suddenly shifted, and suddenly her head was filled with the noise of chaos. she sighed.

 _"_ _peril, on your six."_ at the sound of the comms whomever loomed behind her was still. she caught her breath, focusing on ben on the adjoining rooftop who kneeled at the edge. the figure took another step. _"are you listening?"_ james grew irritated. _"catsuit is literally on top of you!"_ the exclamation was nearly piercing along the sound of exposed metal. in an instant, the figure began to strike but instead perry found herself rolling to the other side of the roof, her gun slung across her back and her feet stopping her in a lunge. now facing the figure who was legitimately in a catsuit, she readied her arms in an attacking stance.

"carter…" ben looked towards her roof at the sound. "you're on your own." at the word, things got loud from nearly all directions; as if he had no other choice, ben jumped. then, as he does so well, he ran.

he ran until he could no longer hear the voices of the comms, jagged breaths filling his ears to the point where he could not distinguish his own from the others. he ran to be sure he wasn't followed, he ran to be sure he caught up. like his feet had done so many times before they moved in front of him; like his feet began to do now they kicked, they stomped, they kneed into metal and flesh that was in his way and still he could not hear anything. james was probably yelling directions, out of the van and onto the streets because _what the fuck are you doing carter_. perry, now noticeably not far behind him, still found herself preoccupied with the catsuit and keeping a position on barnes, running through the streets and managing to mark her opponents flesh where she could but all the while through her grunts she yelled _keep going carter_.

so he did. he kept going. he kept jumping over cars, through people, grabbing at straws because as fast as his feet could take him it just was not enough—until finally he reached out, grabbing worn blue fabric and stopping in his tracks as crisp, cold, blue eyes met his own dark holes once more.

"what are you doing here ben?" steve asked. steve was worried. steve forgot about running after barnes for two precious seconds. steve stopped to look him in the eye. ben let go, and the sirens rang louder than anything he could here before.

 _"_ _congratulations capt, you're a criminal."_

—

the noise echoed through the room, glass making the outside frenzy visible yet still silent except for the repeated tapping of james' foot. from beyond the separate glass, perry watched as his knee bobbed in the air only to fall back to a still and bob once more; beside her, ben stared at the floor. she turned, deciding that was her best view.

 _"_ _we're missing something…"_ the thought rang in everyones head as ben found himself handcuffed to a car door, as perrys arms were found wrapped in zip-ties in her lap as she was squished beside him, and as the false security van james was so acquainted in was confiscated as he was tossed into the third rear seat with a slam of the door. they missed a backup, an extraction, a distraction. they missed an entire element that could have let the three of them be seated on a shield issued plane arguing about the snacks chosen for the ride home. _home_ … they could have still had one.

"you know that upgrade i gave you was round trip…" taking the seat to her left, natasha crossed her legs to stare at the falling red hair from perrys downward gaze. to her reflexes desire, she pushed the strands back behind the girls ear and watched as she looked up in shock. "wanna tell me why coulson had you going after barnes?" perry swallowed. the ticket was never respect, it was a coaxing mechanism. the offer for lunch was never an interjection, it was a conversation starter. the seated position was not for care, and the calming touch of the worried hair was not a maternal instinct. it was an espionage of the womb, and perry could no longer deny she was born from the best.

beside her ben stared at the shined concrete of the floor, counting the specks that seemed to be craft glitter. _1,047,321_ , _1,047,322_ , he counted and counted and counted until the numbers no longer satisfied him, joggling in his brain with other counts of information he would rather forget. _237 days, 5688 hours, 118 weeks, seven months…_

he looked up, his eyes adjusting to the frenzy of the room as he notices a cube in the center of it all, inside the stark men; one seated and tapping his foot and the other standing while making wild accusations with his hands. james slammed a hand onto the table, his foot stopping. tony sat down, placing a hand over the one flat on the wooden surface. the two men looked at each other before finally standing together and wrapping one another in an embrace. james muttered something into the fabric of his suit and tony softly patted his back.

beyond the family affair stood steve, staring at ben in his stark-framed daze. in a second, however, ben's focus moved from the stark's on show to the man beyond the glass, making eye-contact for the third time that day. however, this time he couldn't tell what was happening behind the eyes. he couldn't see regret, or worry, or fear marking him as a person, just eyes cold within the rest of the room, colder than any part. he considered getting up, walking towards him, but ben wasn't sure of what he would say once he did. he wasn't sure if he would say anything. they continued to stare at one another, the emotions teetering between a plethora on a circle until finally ben realized he was just like peggy. until he came to the conclusion that as steve stared at his bruised persona he would assume whatever lie he told him just to be able to move on—to forget.

like peggy, steve looked away from ben as he sat in a chair as beaten up as ever. he turned his entire body around so only his back was exposed, and even then it was nothing but a body in the world. like peggy he had left him in an oasis, alone, with no real judgement, allowing him to be taken by the force of the currents until he finally drowned.

ben looked at perry beside him, then looked down. he looked as james in the glass room, then looked down. he thought about abby, now nothing more than the soil beneath the concrete his feet squeaked against. his body began to sweat.

for a second, he was afraid he would turn out just like his parents.


End file.
